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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

A Summer Love - 1. Chapter 1

June 2, 1991

I stood in line with my classmates, waiting for my turn to cross the stage, waiting for my name to be called, and waiting for my undergraduate years to end. It was a beautiful day here in Cambridge, a beautiful day at Harvard. I walked unhurriedly behind the person in front of me, Janice Plant, as we finally made it to the foot of the stairs and began to climb slowly. And then Janice was at the final step and I heard her name called, and then it was my turn.

“Marcel Antoine Plaquet,” boomed the announcer, and I stepped forward to receive my diploma. I heard applause from the crowd and glanced into the audience to locate the people making the noise, making sure to turn my eyes back as I shook hands with the Dean. There was my adoptive family, cheering for me, wishing me success as my real parents had never done. Stefan, who was like a surrogate mother to me, and his partner Greg, who was like a surrogate father. That made me giggle. Stef was quite the flamer, unless he was talking business. Next to them sat Brad and Robbie, who were like big brothers, and next to them was JP. My eyes locked on JP, his face full of pride, mine hiding how I really felt. How the boyhood crush I had developed for him in Paris five years ago had never faded, it had only grown stronger.

He thought of me as a son, but my feelings for him were in no way filial. Ever since that one night in Paris, when he'd been sad and lonely because his boyfriend, Mouse, had left him, and we'd had amazing sex, ever since then I’d thought about being with him. I yearned to feel his body move with mine, yearned to feel him writhe in pleasure because of my actions, and yearned to explode inside him once again. But it was just one fleeting moment in time, doomed to never be repeated. I sighed.

Most guys my age would think I was an idiot, as JP was going to be 54 soon, while I'd just turned 22 in March. They'd be out looking for some hot young stud, someone their age, maybe younger. Not me. I'd been there, done that. I'd fucked around with most of the gay guys at Harvard, and some of the straight ones too, in my four years here. Yeah, a hard dick, a hot mouth, or a willing hole was nice, it was a lot better than beating off, but none of them connected with me on a mental level. They all seemed young and pretty, and all about getting off. I was glad to help out, but anything beyond that seemed ridiculous.

JP was different. He had the body and looks of a guy in his mid 30s: his thick blond hair showing no signs of graying or thinning, his skin perhaps a bit less firm than it was in his youth, his face a little weathered from the years. But those eyes, those light green eyes, they just captivated me. And then when he spoke, his calm, cool, smooth voice was like music. And best of all, the brilliant mind behind it, the sharpness, the wit, the cleverness, all wrapped up in a stoic package that belied his kind nature, and his willingness to fight like a lion for those he loved.

I glanced back at him and saw those eyes again. They weren't looking at me, they were looking away, and they were sad. He'd recently buried Mouse, his boyfriend. Mouse had lived longer than most of us expected, lasting until right after Christmas, before he had finally succumbed to AIDS. His dying, a six month long period of pain and suffering, had devastated JP. I hid the selfish thought, the thought that now that Mouse was dead, JP was free. Fat chance of that. He'd stretched the age limit as far as he could go with Mouse, who was four years older than me, and he'd only done that because he was erroneously diagnosed as HIV positive, and that link had brought them together. Yet in typical JP fashion, he had defied most of his family and stayed with Mouse, even though he was negative and Mouse was positive.

Finally the ceremony was over, and we dispersed in a rowdy mob. I had a lot of friends here, but no one close. I loved a party, loved the social life, but I never let people get too close to me. I never let them completely inside my head. I told myself I was just doing it to be interesting, to be an enigma, but the truth was that I felt vulnerable. Too vulnerable to let someone in because they might hurt me.

“Congratulations!” Stef said, darting through the crowd to be the first to get to me. “I am so proud of you!”

I gave him a huge smile and hugged him back, even picking him up off of his feet a bit. God, I loved this man. The guy who had done so much for me. Housed me, put me through school, bought me a new BMW, gave me an allowance so I didn't have to work, and took me shopping whenever I wanted. The guy who was always there for me, who always cheered me up; the guy I shared a special bond with. Stef could see right through me just as easily as I could see through him.

Greg was next, Stef's partner, the one behind the scenes who probably had a lot to do with all the things Stef did for me. Greg was a stoic kind of guy, the kind of guy who kept his feelings close to his vest, but he and I were close. I understood him, I knew how to deal with him, and most important of all, I could make him smile and cheer him up when he was in one of his grumpy moods. Typically, he said nothing, and just let the physical contact of our hug transmit how he felt. It was more effective than words.

“Pretty incredible big guy! Moving to the US at 16, making it into Harvard, and then kicking total ass while you're there,” said Brad, grinning. Strong in so many ways, more handsome than he'd ever admit to himself with his soft brown hair and sculpted features, a guy who had a family and a high-power job, yet he was only 28 years old. All that, and he had the biggest dick I'd ever seen in my life. It must be close to nine inches and pretty thick to boot.

“I love you man,” said Robbie, next in line. Brad's partner, the lucky recipient of those ‘close to nine inches’, and a hell of a nice guy. We looked so much alike we could easily be brothers, but in fact we were cousins. My biological father, Jeff Hayes, was his father's brother. We'd found each other in Paris thanks to that distinctive look Hayes men seemed to inherit, regardless of who their mother was.

“I love you too,” I said back to him as I hugged him.

And then there was JP. I threw up my shield, determined not to let him detect my feelings. He approached me and started to give me one of those lame ass “man hugs” that you used on strangers, but I pushed his hand aside and pulled him into a full hug. I loved the feel of holding him in my arms, even for a minute; I loved feeling his tense body relax with mine. I felt my dick starting to harden so I gently released the hug. “You graduated from my alma mater,” he said, “and you did it with a better GPA than I did.” I could see the pride return to his expression. That was valuable, gratifying, but it wasn't the look I wanted to get from him. The only expression I could risk was a smile.

“Greg managed to tear himself away from his latest project to be here,” Stef teased, a jibe at Greg's workaholic nature.

“Like I would miss it,” Greg said grumpily.

“He's working on the sequel to Naked Gun, and it's out at the end of the month,” added Stef. “Amazing that someone as grumpy as Greg is into comedies,” Stef teased, making Greg grin through his forced frown.

“Humph,” he said.

“You are ready to go?” Stef asked. I looked at him. He was up to something.

“Go where?” I asked. I saw the rest of them smiling. This was a big deal.

“It is a surprise. Come on,” he said, leading us to the waiting limousine. I tried to nonchalantly watch where the car was taking us, but it was hard to do that and carry on a conversation at the same time. It wasn't until we pulled up to his plane that I realized we were at the airport. We jumped out of the limo and headed right into the plane.

“Did you get a new plane?” I asked Stef.

“I did. This is a Falcon 900, more updated and faster than my old one. But I loved it so much; I decided to stick with Dassault.”

JP rolled his eyes. “He just likes French jets.”

“So where are we going?” I saw the co-pilot toss my bag in the plane. Stef must have packed a change of clothes for me before the ceremony.

“What is it about the word surprise that you do not understand?” Stef said slyly. This plane had a separate sleeping area, so Brad and Robbie snuck back there to take a nap. Or to fuck, more likely. Lucky bastards. JP, Greg, Stef, and I sat in the big cushy chairs. Greg pulled out his briefcase and started working on something, getting a frown from Stef.

“So what are you planning to do this summer?” JP asked.

“I do not really know. I do not have any plans until I start grad school this fall.” I thought about that. A whole new school in a whole new city.

“Northwestern is lucky to have you,” JP said smugly. His first job as a professor had been there. “You'll love Chicago.”

“I hope so. I'm going to be there for a while.”

“You will be cold,” Stef said. “Chicago is cold.”

“So was Paris and so was Massachusetts,” I countered.

“I was thinking that, if you wanted, I could use a research assistant this summer,” JP said. I forced myself not to smile too big. Greg looked up and winked at me, then went back to his papers.

“Really? That would be incredible! What are you working on?” Working with JP was almost as good as fucking him. I'd get to at least be with his mind.

“I'm doing a project on the Ancien Regime. It's actually not an academic exercise, so you may not want to waste your time. I'm trying to take an objective look at the reign of Louis XV.” Louis XV, the horny king, the one who had his own brothel within walking distance of Versailles.

“You do not think history has treated him kindly?” I asked.

“I think they have either been too kind, or too tough. I'd like to find out what the truth is. My hypothesis is that he was somewhere in the middle, and that the skewing toward good or bad is based on the author asserting his or her own political agenda.” He was into it now, thinking deeply. He talked on and on, intriguing me and boring Stefan to sleep until I felt the plane start to descend.

I looked out the window anxiously, trying to see where we were landing, but it was too overcast. I made a mental calculation factoring in our time in the air. I didn't have the other variable. I didn't know this new Falcon's cruising speed. I guessed we were somewhere in Ohio. Maybe we were going to Claremont? I put that out of my mind. JP and Stefan had made their final pilgrimage to Claremont last year for Tonto's funeral. They'd pretty much cut their ties to their remaining family members after that. I stared anxiously, looking for a sign, any sign of where we were. Then we broke through the clouds and there was the Chicago skyline, the skyscrapers reaching into the sky and piercing the clouds. My new home.

The Falcon touched down at Meigs Field and we exited straight into a waiting limo. Brad and Robbie had smiles on their faces. Stef giggled at them. I looked at my watch: 6pm Central time. I smiled back at them. Just enough time to land and drive somewhere nice for dinner to christen my new town. I sat smugly in the limo, feeling sure that I'd guessed the plan. We headed to Morton's, the original Morton's, where Stef had booked a small room for the six of us. We had a great dinner, a fabulous dinner.

“What a great present,” I said. “Thanks so much. Who would have thought I'd be having dinner in my new home town.” Stef had a strange expression on his face. There was something more.

“We have another stop to make,” he said, turning to JP. “I thought before we left, we'd take Marcel up and show him where you used to live.”

“You lived there too,” JP said. “I haven't been there in years. A stroll down memory lane.”

“That's cool,” Brad said. “Ever since you've talked about that place, I wanted to see it. You think we can go in?”

“What do you propose we do? Just walk up to the door and knock and ask to see the place?” Stefan said.

“We did it in Paris. Remember when we first met Lou?” Brad reminded him of a trip they'd taken years ago and ended up in Stefan's childhood apartment in the Paris slums. The mention of Lou caused a familiar pain, but I blocked it out. Stefan looked at me, worried, but I gave him a smile to ease his mind. Greg didn't even look at me, he already knew how I felt. It was creepy the way he could read me so well.

Back in the limo again, we headed up Lake Shore Drive, enjoying the nice summer evening and the pretty lights. We opened the sunroof to let the fresh air in and to give us a better view of the skyscrapers. When we got to Hollywood, Lake Shore Drive ended but Sheridan took its place. We wound our way north toward Evanston and pulled into a condo building. I studied it through the sunroof. It had a nondescript appearance, the kind you'd expect from a building built in the early 1960s, but was beautiful nonetheless. It sat right on the Lake.

We got into the elevator and it whisked us up to the 20th floor. I was kind of relieved to see that Brad and Robbie looked as perplexed as I was. The door opened onto a tasteful but small lobby, decorated with marble floors and light paneled walls. It looked original. Some styles were timeless.

Stefan pulled out a key and unlocked the door, while Brad, Robbie, and I stared at him in amazement. He threw open the door and motioned us in. When I passed by him he stopped me. “Welcome home,” he said.

“Welcome home?” What the fuck was he talking about?

He took my hand and turned it palm up, then put the key in it. “Happy Graduation. The condo is yours.” I just stood there, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I'm not a crier, but I couldn't help it. I gave him a huge hug, and I couldn't let go. He finally pulled me off. “Does this mean you are happy?”

“Stef, this is too much. I cannot believe you bought me a condo. This condo.” We walked in, taking in the beautiful views from the terrace. JP was standing there, looking out at the lake. Remembering. “It looks like it's been completely updated.”

“It has been. I bought it in January and I've had them working on it since then, redoing the whole thing. But you know me. The decorating was fun!” Stef said, beaming with pride at the modern leather sofas and the new kitchen with brand new appliances. Greg looked at Stef proudly, impressed by his excellent taste. I looked at the art on the walls, large paintings, and realized that they were paintings of our time at the Louvre dig. There was one with me, dusting off some of the old stones, and one of JP, going over some notes with the partially excavated moat in the background. Best of all, there was one of all of us in front of the ancient excavated walls. This was a fantasy since we were never there together at the same time, but wonderful nonetheless. The painting showed Brad and Robbie standing together, with JP and I looking at some part of the wall and Mouse standing behind JP. It was perfect. Brad had done all of these, and like all of his paintings, they were excellent.

Stefan gave us a tour, showing us around the condo. There was an enlarged master bedroom and bathroom, a small study, and a decent sized guest room. Robbie and Brad went out to get us some supplies, and they came back with a ton of booze along with stuff for breakfast the next morning. As soon as they came back, Greg left.

“I'm really sorry that I have to go back,” he said, pulling me aside.

“It's fine Greg. It meant a lot that you came for my graduation. I know you've got a lot on your plate.”

He smiled at me and gave me a big hug. “I have a graduation present for you, but we'll wait until you get home.”

“You already bought me a condo, paid for everything in school, gave me an allowance...” he stopped me.

“Stef bought you the condo and redecorated it, not me. What we do for you, we do because we love you.” We both got teary eyed and hugged again.

“I love you too,” I said, and he smiled, then headed out to avoid any more emotional displays.

“You are not upset about him leaving are you?” Stef asked, worried.

“Of course not. I'm just thrilled he came to graduation,” I told Stef. He looked relieved. Why did he think I was so fragile?

We sat there, drinking cocktails and smoking weed and just enjoying the condo until about 2am. Then everyone started passing out. Brad and Robbie took the guest room, while Stefan grabbed the small bed in the study. JP grabbed some blankets and curled up on one of the couches. They were comfortable, but not as comfortable as a bed.

I lay in bed, unable to sleep. It was driving me nuts that JP was out there, so close, sleeping on the couch, when I was here alone in my king size bed. I got up and headed out to the couch and stood over him. He was still awake, as drunk as I was, but still awake. I held out my hand to him.

“What?” he asked.

“Come on. I have room.”

“No, I'm fine here. This is comfortable. Don't worry about me,” he said. He was awfully insistent about that, especially for a drunk guy.

“I cannot sleep with you out here and I'm tired. Come on. I have a huge bed.”

“No really Marcel. Really. I'm perfectly happy right here. Go back to bed.”

I headed back to my room and grabbed a blanket and pillow and came back out to the couch opposite his. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“If you will not sleep with me in the bedroom, I will sleep with you out here,” I said. He gave me a dirty look and then shook his head. He got up and sighed, then headed off to my bedroom. He was only wearing boxers, just as I was, and I took the opportunity to look at his body. Still slim, still wiry, with the cutest ass around. I felt myself getting hard, and put the pillow in front of me to block it.

“I hope you're not going to be this big of a pain in the ass to work with,” he growled. He climbed into bed on the side nearest the window and turned his back to me.

I climbed in after him and lay there on my back, now more tortured than ever. Here was this man that starred in my jack off fantasies and I'd gotten him drunk and in bed with me, but we were miles apart. The smart thing would be to go right to sleep, to ignore him. That was the smart thing, but that's not what I did.

I rolled over behind him and curled up, spooning behind him, and wrapped my arms around him, making sure to keep my hard cock away from him. I didn't want to poke him in the ass; that would be just rude. I felt him tense and begin to struggle, but I held on tight, and he finally relaxed.

“This is what happened to me the first night I slept in this very room with Stefan. I lay down and he spooned up behind me just like you are.”

I stroked his chest gently. “And what happened?” I asked.

“I ended up fucking him,” he said, and laughed. I didn't. I nuzzled into him, kissing the back of his neck and behind his ears. His body took over and thrust back into me, back into my rock hard cock. Then he stopped. “Marcel, we can't do this,” he said.

“Yes we can,” I said to him, moving my hand down his chest to his abdomen. He moaned again. He reached down and grabbed my hand just before it got to his dick, holding it in place. I stopped but played with his lower abdomen, and his pubes. “I want you so bad,” I whispered into his ear.

His hand let go and I moved down, grabbing his hard dick and stroking him gently. He moaned again, this time more loudly. I remembered the last time, over five years ago. He was a loud lover. It was hot. I let his dick go and ran my hand over this thigh and around to his ass, gently squeezing his ass cheeks. “Do you remember the last time we were together?” I asked him. “I do. I want to do that again.” He pulled down his underwear and I pulled off mine. I moved my mouth down his back, down to his ass, and dove into his crack, rimming his hole, the place that was going to make me feel so good. He was going nuts, moaning and groaning like crazy. I grabbed a condom and slipped it on, then generously lubed his ass. He was pretty tight. It must have been a while for him.

Now there was no resistance. My fingers probed into him and he thrust back into them willingly, urgently. I pulled them out and moved my dickhead up to his hole and pushed in, slowly, as lovingly as I could. I felt him absorb me, wrap around me like a glove. He moaned loudly and arched his back, pushing his body back into me, his head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him firmly and then pulled him back on top of me so that his back was against my chest. I moved in and out of him slowly, wanting to make this last. Shit, it had been over five years since the last time.

He was having none of it. He thrust back into me urgently, desperate for the release that getting fucked would give him. I pushed my legs together, then up, in between his, and then parted mine, forcing his apart, splaying his ass wide open as I began to thrust into him with a purpose.

“You feel so good. You have the best ass, the best ass. No one feels as good as you do,” I cooed into his ear. “I dream about being inside of you like this, of fucking you like this. I dream about it while I jack off, when I'm blowing my load all over myself,” I said to him in my bedroom voice, taking my voice down an octave. I thought I sounded sexy. He apparently did too. He was into it now, really working with me. I ran my hands up and down his body, exploring him.

It was too much. I couldn't hold out any more. “I'm gonna cum,” I said, and grabbed his dick and started stroking. “You're gonna make me blow,” I said more urgently as I felt the orgasm rise up in my balls.

“Me too,” he said, more of a whimper. I let out a low growl as the first shot blasted into the condom, then the second. I felt his dick expand and throb, and then felt the warm liquid that was his semen on my hand. I loosened my grip, letting his cum act as a lube while I milked him dry. I came harder and longer than I'd ever cum before, and he was right there with me. Now that he was spent, I felt him tense up again. He moved off of me, letting me pop out of him, and lay on the bed next to me. I hopped up to get a towel and to throw away my condom, and then I returned and wiped him off carefully. He smiled slightly.

“You are feeling guilty,” I said, lying on my side next to him. “You should not.”

“You are 32 years younger than me Marcel. I'm an old man. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I have retirement ahead of me.”

“I do not care about age. I care about you. How can you have awesome, amazing sex like that and just discount it?” I asked him. “Unless you did not have fun?”

He smiled up at me and kissed me, letting our mouths link, and giving me a chance to pull him over so he was lying on my chest. He sighed contentedly. “Marcel, this is so wrong. You remind me of Jeff, you're his son. This is beyond twisted. It's like sleeping with my stepson.”

“Do you want to go back and sleep on the couch?” I asked genuinely.

He looked up at me, frustrated. “No. I want to stay here. I just shouldn't.”

“Yes you should. I do not give a shit about age. And you've never been a father to me. A mentor and a friend, but never a father. You think I was lying when we were making love, when I told you that I fantasize about sleeping with you when I masturbate?”

“Yeah, actually I did.”

I stroked his back gently. “Well you were wrong. I do.” I sighed. “I understand if you cannot love me, if these things get in the way of your feelings. But I know you're hurting and lonely. I'm lonely too. I can make you feel good, can I not?” He looked up at me, grinning, and nodded. “Then let me do that. This summer, we will work together, we will play together, and I'm going to fuck your brains out. And then this fall, you will be in California and I will be here.”

I felt his hand move up to my dick. I was so horny it was already hardening. “You are a lot like your father,” he teased, as he stroked me to a full erection. He knelt over me and began to lower his ass onto my dick. He stopped suddenly, alarmed. “You are negative?” he asked.

I smiled. “I was tested two weeks ago. It's been a dry period.”

He grinned back at me. “Me too.” I felt his still lubed ass slide down on my pole again, felt his naked skin against my naked skin. He was on top of me now, slowly gyrating his hips so his cock rubbed against my abdomen while his ass moved up and down on my dick. It was my turn to moan. Damn he was good. His mouth was next to my ear, moaning gently, while I just panted into his. It was erotic, the most erotic thing I'd ever experienced, and he brought me off in another amazing orgasm.

He moved back down to his position on my chest and grabbed the covers and pulled them up. “A fun summer huh?” he asked.

“A fun summer,” I said, grabbing his ass. He laughed, and then we drifted off to sleep.

June 3, 1991

I woke up, spooning behind him, with my morning hard-on jabbing his ass. I gently aligned my dick with his hole and pushed in slowly. “Ahh,” he said, alarmed and aroused at the same time. That lasted for about a second. I drove all the way into him, nuzzling his neck. “Good morning,” I cooed.

“Morning,” he said, and moaned. I reached down and grabbed his hard dick, stroking it in time with my thrusts.

“We are gonna have the best fucking summer,” I said.

“Or the best summer fucking,” he said and giggled. I drove into him harder then, thrilled that he could move beyond the guilt long enough to joke about things. Then moaning replaced his giggling as I brought him to another orgasm.

“I'm going to have cum dripping out of my ass all day,” he groused happily.

“Maybe more. Give me a few minutes to recharge,” I teased. There was a knock on the door and he got a horrified look on his face. “It's OK,” I told him. “They want you to have some happiness in your life,” I said, and then moved closer to his ear and whispered: “and a dick in your ass.” He giggled again. “Come in!” I said loudly.

The door opened and Stef came in, a wicked grin on his face. “It smells like sex in here,” he said.

“Come on over here and you can taste some sex too,” I teased, making him laugh. He sat on the bed next to me and a blushing JP.

“You are an amazingly sexy man Marcel. I have got to stop adopting all the cute ones because then they are off limits.” He turned to JP. “Quit looking all embarrassed and guilty.”

JP sighed. “He's Jeff's son, and he's 32 years younger than me.”

Stef moved closer, sniffing me. “He even smells like Jeff.” I laughed.

“Makes love like him too,” JP chirped, and then looked embarrassed. I did?

“Put your guilt aside and just enjoy each other. You are so uptight,” he said to JP. “You have not gotten laid since, well, since probably about 15 minutes ago, but before that it was at least a year ago.”

JP sighed and turned away from us, his back to me. Stef walked around to sit next to him and I moved up behind him again, spooning with him, forcing him to stay put. “You cannot run from me,” Stef said. “You deserve some fun in your life. You deserve some happiness. You took care of Mouse all that time, putting your all into it, and before he died he told you to find someone new, someone to make you happy.” The mention of Mouse bothered JP, and made me nervous. I recovered quickly. Mouse was the guy that found me in Paris and was a good friend. I had been good while he was alive. Now that he was dead, there was no dishonor in fucking his boyfriend.

JP moved back and into me, and I was hard again. He tried to move away but I held him tight and gently entered him. I saw Stefan swallow as he watched me plow into JP, into his ass that was still moist with my last load. JP moaned and lost it, while Stefan got an evil smile and dropped off the bed, onto his knees, and started blowing him. Neither one of us touched the other, only JP, but we brought him off in one more great orgasm. I didn't even notice that Stefan was jacking off while he blew JP until he pulled off of him and blew into his hand. Stef headed to the bathroom to wash his hands off.

“You're going to wear me out,” JP said.

“I am.” He giggled, almost like a girl, and it was so fucking cute. Stef came out of the bathroom smiling and headed off to check on Brad and Robbie. JP grabbed my hand, smiling. “Come on, let's take a shower,” he said. We took a long shower, a really long shower, washing each other, and then making love once more before getting out and drying off.

We beat Brad and Robbie to the kitchen. I started making breakfast, shocking the shit out of them because neither of them could cook worth a damn. The smell of bacon brought Robbie out. The Hayes appetite, I thought with a smile. Brad was the last one out, but I made lots of food so there was still some left for him.

Brad kept looking at JP as he ate, while JP kept looking back at him. The more Brad stared, the more JP glared. “You got laid,” Brad announced.

Robbie's ears perked up and he looked at JP, a curious expression on his face. Stefan started cracking up, while JP just blushed. Brad got a pissed off look on his face and glared at Stefan. “Does Greg know you're fucking other guys?”

Stefan eyed him coolly, his impish grin appearing. “He does not. You will not tell him either,” he said, watching Brad get really pissed, about to blow up, when he added, “because it was not me.”

Brad and Robbie almost got whiplash turning to stare at me. I just walked over to JP, leaned down and kissed him lovingly. “Damn right he got laid. Five times. Had to show him that there are some advantages to being with a young guy.”

Robbie started cracking up, really laughing, while Brad followed. “Five times,” Robbie said to Brad. “I remember back when you were young and you could do that.”

Brad grabbed his ear like an angry school marm would and dragged him out of the room. “We'll see you in an orgasm.” Too funny.

While Brad was proving that he still had a lot of testosterone left, I explored my condo in the daylight. “How was it different before?” I asked JP and Stef.

“Well, the kitchen was closed off. It didn't open up into the living room and dining room like it does now. This is much better, but the condo was built in the 60s where women were in the kitchen cooking, and shouldn't be seen or heard,” JP said, somewhat scathingly.

He looked around a little more. “Beyond that, the Master bedroom has been enlarged, as has the master bath and closet, at the expense of space in the guest room and the study. Another smart move.”

Stefan beamed proudly. “So you think I did well?”

“You did all of that?” JP asked. “What did it look like before?”

“Just like it did when I moved out,” he said. “The people who lived here apparently did not do much. Even the carpet was original.”

“Wow Stef that was a lot of work on your part. It's amazing. And I love all the furniture and the drapes. The bed is really awesome too,” I said, leering at JP, making him blush and Stefan laugh.

“I picked that out myself,” he said, “of course.”

“So since you guys kidnapped me,” I teased, “how long are we staying here?”

“Well, our plan was to spend the day here, go up to Northwestern for a bit, and then head back to Boston tomorrow,” Stef said. “We figured we'd leave you there to pack up and drive here, unpack, and then we can fly out and bring you back to California for the summer.”

“That's assuming that you want to spend the summer in California,” JP said. Did he seem nervous that I wouldn't? How cute.

“You still want me to work for you this summer?” I asked him.

“If you want to,” he said, trying to sound like it didn't matter.

“I want to but under one condition,” I told him.

“What's that?”

“You come with me when I drive here from Boston and help me out. Seems only fair that if I'm helping you, you should give me a hand and keep me company.” I looked at him and slightly tilted my head, trying to be persuasive.

“That sounds fair to me,” said Stef. JP gave him a dirty look.

“Alright. You drive a tough bargain, but I'll do it,” he said, pretending to be a hard bargainer.

“I do. It's going to be a tough ride for you,” I said, running my hand over his ass. Stefan giggled again and winked at me.

We kicked back and relaxed, just chatting, until Brad and Robbie were finally ready to go. About half an hour later they came out looking flushed.

“Let's go,” Stef said. The car was waiting to zip us up to Northwestern. JP took us on a tour of the campus he had known so well. He took us over to the history department. We were surprised to find it open. He wandered back through the offices to one in the corner, where a door was slightly ajar. Shit. The Department Chair's office. He knocked gently.

“Come in!” A voice boomed. JP opened the door and the guy behind the desk looked up in shock, and then got a huge smile. “JP!” he said loudly, and jumped up to give him a big hug. “How the hell have you been? I haven't seen you since that conference in New Orleans two years ago.”

“It has been too long. Let me introduce my family. This is Stefan, my cousin and best friend, Brad, my son, and his partner, Robbie, and this is Stefan's stepson Marcel. Gentlemen, this is Dr. Adams.” We all shook hands.

“I know you,” Dr. Adams said to me, grinning. “It's nice to see you're here in town.”

“Thank you sir,” I said deferentially. “This is a really nice office,” I observed, looking at the high ceilings and the paneled walls.

Dr. Adams laughed. “It sure is. JP did it. Came in here back in, what was it?” he asked, looking at JP. “1962? Anyway, took what was a crappy office and turned it into this palace. Then he fled the tyrannical regime of Dr. Kellogg, while I bided my time and it ended up in my greedy hands.” We laughed.

“And nothing could make me happier,” JP said. “I'm going to show these guys around campus. I'll be back in town next week. Let's do dinner.”

“That sounds great,” Adams said, shaking our hands as we said goodbye.

“Thanks for buttering up my boss,” I said.

“You won't need to butter him up. He's a great guy. Just do your job and focus,” JP said, back in department chair mode.

We wandered around the campus and ended up at the athletic department. There was a hall of fame of sorts, with pictures of athletes that had set school records. JP led us down the wall, to the era of the 1960s, and stopped in front of one picture. There was a handsome man that looked exactly like me. Jeff Hayes, said the plaque below the picture, and denoted the records he'd broken.

I stared at the picture and felt my heart fill with pride. Here was my real dad, someone who had fucked up, to be sure, but someone who had at least achieved something in his lifetime and was honored here, even in his death. “I'm really proud of him,” I said to JP. He looked at me, and strangely enough, he seemed very happy.

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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WOW, Marcel and JP, I guess everything does come full circle. I guess you can't really think about him being Jeff's son since he wasn't raised around any of the rest of the family.

 

I do think some people forget how sexy intelligence can be. JP would be hot to me because of how smart he is. There is few things in the world better than a man of the world that understands his place in it...

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